[The Oval Office. White House Chief of Staff MICK MULVANEY is sitting on a sofa, wearing large headphones and staring at what are apparently blank sheets of paper in a folder. Standing in front of the Resolute Desk are ERIC TRUMP and DONALD TRUMP JR., both wearing track suits with outlandish and probably expensive sneakers. They are playing slapsies; ERIC is holding praying hands out front, DON JR. is trying to smack them. He misses.]
DON JR.: Shit!
ERIC: Ha! Alright homo, get ‘em out there.
DON JR.: I have to quit.
ERIC: Bullshit! Get ‘em out there.
[DON JR. wanders to a sofa opposite MULVANEY.]
DON JR.: No. My hands are getting chafed and Kimmy says it’s bad for my modeling career.
ERIC: Your modeling career? What modeling career?
DON JR.: Kimmy’s setting it up. It’s gonna be big.
ERIC: You gonna sit on another tree stump and have people make fun of you?
DON JR.: Hey, term two no one’s gonna laugh.
ERIC: They’ll laugh harder than ever when I tell them what a pussy you are.
[DON JR. takes a cigar out of his jacket pocket, rolls in with his fingers, sniffs it.]
DON JR.: Pussy says what?
ERIC: You’re the pussy, pussy.
DON JR.: Pussy says what?
ERIC: I'll tell them all about you, pussy. How you used to jerk off with mom’s skin cream. How you jerked off in her skin cream. I bet you’re Barron’s real dad.
[DON JR. drops his cigar, leaps from the sofa and starts wrestling with ERIC on the Resolute Desk. MULVANEY sets the blank papers in his lap and stares into space. Presently DONALD TRUMP enters, grinning rictally and seeming to swing his body forward with his hips and shoulders. Eventually the boys notice TRUMP, clamber off the desk.]
TRUMP: Like to see my boys having a good time.
ERIC: He started it!
[DON JR. runs up to TRUMP.]
DON JR. Hey Pop, I saw you on TV last night, way to go, it was awesome.
[DON JR. gives a raised fist salute.]
TRUMP: People liked it.
ERIC: What about me? I made a speech too!
[TRUMP walks past DON JR., goes to ERIC, who reflexively cowers.]
Lemme see your hands.
[TRUMP takes ERIC's hands, drops them, turns to DON JR. He is no longer smiling.]
You playing rough with your little brother?
DON JR.: ‘s just a game.
TRUMP: A game? [Looks on the floor] What’s that?
[DON JR. quickly stoops, picks up his cigar, stuffs it in his jacket pocket.]
DON JR.: I didn’t light it.
TRUMP: Where do you get these habits? Listen, we gotta get you a job.
DON JR.: Oh, but I got one, Pop, Kimmy’s setting me up in the modeling business.
[Long pause, during which TRUMP just stares at DON JR.]
Hey Pop, that speech last night? You really trumped that bitch!
ERIC: What are you even talking about?
[TRUMP wanders to the corner sideboard, pulls out the red, white, and blue box containing his formula.]
DON JR.: You shut up!
ERIC: You didn’t even watch it! [To TRUMP] I asked him if he liked my speech and he said what speech!
[TRUMP stands at the breakfront and just shovels formula up to his nose and inhales it. Then he turns around and, face impassive, watches his boys.]
DON JR.: Nobody cared about your speech! You’re like Frank Sinatra Jr.! People only put up with you because you’re his son!
ERIC: You’re the one called Junior, Junior! Like Ron Reagan Junior the faggot dancer!
DON JR.: You’re the faggot!
ERIC: [Flapping his hands and mincing around] Oooh look at me I’m a mah-dal! I need makeup for my butthole! Make it look nice and tight like I don’t get fucked in the ass while I keep fingering my cigar because it looks like a dick —
[DON JR. jumps him and they wrestle on the desk. TRUMP comes over and pulls DON JR. off. DON JR. falls to the floor. Pause. MULVANEY watches out of the corner of his eye. TRUMP and ERIC stare down at DON JR.]
TRUMP: Go get your brother a glass of water.
[ERIC runs out of the room. TRUMP leans over DON JR.]
[DON JR. gets up.]
At least your brother knows who’s in charge. You’re making me look like an asshole, you know that? Taking fifty grand from that college in Florida, nothing but bad press.
DON JR.: [Getting steadily more heated until he is shouting] Is that why you got Eric to open for you in Minneapolis, Pop? Huh? Is that how it is now? Send Junior off to do this, send Junior to take care of that, to take care of some little unimportant Russian agent here, pick somebody up at Rudy’s house. I’m the older brother, and I was stepped over! I can handle things. I’m smart. Not like everybody says, like dumb. I’m smart and I want respect!
TRUMP: You wanna go fishing, Junior? How about I send you fishing with Barron? Go on back to New York. And answer the phone when I call you. I might need you to pick somebody up.
[DON JR. looks like he’s about to cry; suddenly he runs out of the room, passing in the doorway ERIC, who’s holding a bottle of Grey Goose. ERIC looks at his father.]
ERIC: I couldn’t find any bottled water so I brought him this.
TRUMP: You can take that away.
[ERIC turns to go.]
[ERIC turns back.]
Nice job on the speech.
ERIC: [Overcome] I — I mean you never — well thanks, Pop. Thanks a lot.
[ERIC leaves. TRUMP goes over to MULVANEY, taps his shoulder. MULVANEY takes off his earphones.]
TRUMP: What are you listening to?
MULVANEY: Nothing. [Holds up earphones.] These are just to keep my ears warm.
[Pause. They look at each other.]
TRUMP: You can knock off for the day.
MULVANEY: You don’t have to tell me twice.
[He gets up and, whistling a peppy version of The Godfather Theme, exits as the CURTAIN falls.]